


I could lie, say I like it like that

by OHfairytales



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 19:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OHfairytales/pseuds/OHfairytales
Summary: “I don’t want you,” she says.Ice cold eyes stare him down and it would’ve hurt less if you’d punch him in the throat.He does not believe her. He does not believe her and yet it hurts like he rolled around in shattered glass and now he’s bleeding everywhere. Maybe the shattered glass is his shattered heart, or better yet his shattered belief in God.or the one where Mohammed tries to find his way back to God and eventually back to Amira's heart





	I could lie, say I like it like that

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mango22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mango22/gifts).

> Hello friends! After writing some angsty Sana x Yousef I'm back with a new and more angsty couple!!!
> 
> Title is from Billie Eillish - when the party is over
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!

“I don’t want you,” she says.

Ice cold eyes stare him down and it would’ve hurt less if you’d punch him in the throat.

He does not believe her. He does not believe her and yet it hurts like he rolled around in shattered glass and now he’s bleeding everywhere. Maybe the shattered glass is his shattered heart, or better yet his shattered belief in God.

He didn’t mean to not be practicing anymore, he really didn’t. But then people started attacking his accent, his hair, his skin colour, his faith. And the only thing that he could change or hide was the way he showed how he believed. He’s such an embarrassment. But it’s not like he doesn’t know how to or doesn’t love it.

The call to prayer, the way his mum wakes up in the middle of the night to prepare for suhoor. His little siblings being excited for Eid. Mohammed knows. He feels it. And yet he feels so distanced. He left his home a long time ago when he had to come to Germany. He left it all there. His hope, his dreams, his everything.

All that he knows is that he wants to swim in the voice of Amira’s laughter forever. Feel her golden skin against his fingertips.

He wants to blame God for it.

He wants to hold Amira by her shoulders, shake her back to reality, show her that he still can be what she wants him to be. But he needs time, he just doesn’t know how long he needs. Some wounds take years to heal and even when they’re no longer open, you’ll see the scars. War will always leave its trace.

He cannot blame God. How can he blame God for giving him one of the biggest blessings yet biggest lessons he must face right now?

_Amira._ It does not matter whether his eyes are open or closed. Mohammed sees her everywhere.

And she sees God.

While he wanders and keeps replaying Amira’s words, his legs show his sadness the way, since his brain does not cooperate at the moment. He decides to sit down right by the water where he sat with Amira last week. His tears start pouring when the sun decides to share the darkening sky with the moon.

Mohammed closes his eyes once again and remembers the homeland before it all got teared down by bombs.

He remembers a specific day.

_The sun is at its highest, every room is too hot to play in with his toys, except the one his grandfather is praying in. Mohammed peaks around the corner of the doorway and see his grandfather’s fragile fingers counting the beads on the tasbeeh while he’s sitting on the golden prayer rug. The curtains are moving with every small breeze, sunrays escaping every time they move. The gold embroidering glistens every time the sun shines upon it and Mohammed is so intrigued by it that he almost trips. His toys fall out of his hands and he sees his grandfather look up at him. His eyebrows raise and then he pats the rug right next to him. “Come here my son. Let me teach you something that will help you always when you’re in sorrow.” Mohammed leaves his toys at the doorway and slowly walks towards his grandfather. The smile he receives from him, is even bigger than the smile Mohammed has. _

Before he is aware what he’s doing, he hears the Arabic flowing out of his mouth. The prayer he knows by heart but hadn’t recited for so long, finds its way back. First on his lips, then in his ears and eventually towards his heart. His tears still haven’t stopped but right now, they’re pouring out of hope. Maybe this had to happen to find his way back. He’s not there yet but then he is reminded of something else Amira said. _You have to pray for yourself and Allah._

He isn’t there yet, but he will be strong in his faith again.

For himself, for God, and eventually, if God wants, _in shaa Allah_, for Amira.


End file.
